


The Forty Nine Minute Julian Fuck Scene You've Been Waiting For

by catesstrophe



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Crying, F/M, Medea (Original Character), Overstimulation, Pegging, if you try anal without fingering first i come to your house and hit you with a broom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 12:10:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16136957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catesstrophe/pseuds/catesstrophe
Summary: Julian and Medea get fucked (mostly Julian gets fucked). From a prompt on tumblr: literally everyone has asked for Julian getting pegged, actually





	The Forty Nine Minute Julian Fuck Scene You've Been Waiting For

**Author's Note:**

> as always I'm trying to go to bed and This Shit kept me up. Please reblog on tumblr.hell here if you enjoy: https://juliandevorakssexyfursona.tumblr.com/post/178587969452

Medea had been planning for too long. She’d gone over the details-- what it would look like, what Julian’s face would look like, what she would look like, even where they’d do it-- but she had forgotten to tell Julian what they were doing. She’d just said to meet at the Rowdy Raven. Apparently the message had sounded a little more dire, action-oriented, than she intended. 

Because Julian showed up ready to fight someone, and Medea was thoroughly uninterested in that kind of attitude when all she was trying to do was fuck him. 

“So, there’s no danger?” Julian asked, a little disappointed. The adrenaline wearing off. Medea played with the small moth on her fingers that had delivered the message, letting it flitter from knuckle to knuckle.

“No, not particularly,” she said, trying not to get too excited when he sank into a seat, pushing his hair back with one gloved hand. 

“But I got us a room,” she supplied, waving the moth off, who flew through a small crack in a window and out of sight into the muggy evening air. Julian quirked an eyebrow, putting both elbows on the table and giving her that lopsided smirk he was so fond of flashing.

“What’s that face for, huh?” Medea asked, smiling in spite of herself. She really couldn’t help it when he had that grin all across his face. 

“You’ve got something planned,” he purred, and started playing footsie with her underneath the table. The nerve of the boy. 

She kicked his foot off of hers, and scowled half-heartedly. Was she that easy to read? Maybe for him. 

She unfolded her arms, and began to stroke the top of Julian’s hand through his gloves, tracing little patterns of nothing; love sigils, she thought. Gone in an instant, unable to repeat them, but intent still pulsing across his hand. A heavy intent, a desire to take him into her arms, and make him hers. He could feel it, and he began to squirm expectantly in his seat. He didn’t always understand magic, but he was so susceptible to it’s charms. 

“Have something to drink,” Medea suggested, still playing with his hands on the table. She was making him lean over a little, because her arms were so much shorter than his, but he didn’t seem to mind. He called over a barmaid, and ordered something nasty sounding. Medea didn’t understand why he just wouldn’t drink wine, or absinthe, or something straightforward, at least. 

Julian’s drink came quickly-- the staff here knew him, liked him well enough too, though they gave Medea a wider berth even when she came in with Julian. Most people did. 

She watched Julian with those odd golden eyes of hers, as he drank. He tried to pretend he didn’t notice, but she knew it was making the hair on his arms stand up. He didn’t know what she had planned. Well. Now was as good of a time as any. She waited until he had taken a long drink of whatever it was he ordered before she said, 

“I’ve decided,” she said into his hands, putting small kisses into his palms, “I’m going to fuck you tonight.”  
She watched him sputter and choke on the drink, smiling wickedly. Just saying it out loud, making it real, made her wet. Words were powerful, and they both knew it for different reasons. 

“Oh?” Julian coughed out, trying to pull some shreds of dignity together. 

“Yeah,” Medea continued, “I have this rope harness. I’m wearing it right now, Ilya. And I have something else, too. I just have to slide it through the right knots. And you just have to behave.” She took a sip of her odd green drink, and licked her lips. 

“You’ve been such a good boy, Ilya,” she purred, and he was flushing deep red from his cheeks to his neck, crossing and uncrossing his legs, “You deserve a reward.” Her boot-clad foot slid up his leg, pressing ever so slightly between his thighs against a bulge she could feel through the soles. 

He exhaled shakily, looking like he was melting into the seat from all of what she was giving him. 

So spoiled, she thought; she spoiled him so much. But how could someone resist? With one dark, lusty eye pinned on her and those long hands clutching his drink, he looked irresistible. As much as Medea liked to pretend she was in charge, he could ask for anything from her. 

“Can we go now?” He asked, and she’s so glad that when he does ask of her, it’s things like this; things she loves giving. 

“Are you sure you’re ready, Ilya?” She teased, tucking a stray hair behind his ear so she could see his dark eye. He nodded softly, leaning to nuzzle her wrist. She smiled and caressed his cheek. 

“You had better call someone over so we can pay for our drinks, then. You know they like you more,” Medea mentioned, gesturing with her glass as she finished her drink in one swallow. He sat up straight, giving her a withering look--she knew he didn’t like it when she pointed things like that out--and calling over the barmaid to pay. She accepted his generous tip with a stammer and a half-hearted “oh are you sure?” before pocketing the money with a large smile. 

“If you’re done,” Medea said quietly, smiling warmly at Julian before getting up gesturing to the stairs leading to the small, run-down rooms. It wasn’t ideal. But it would let them be louder than usual, and it was worth it for that.  
She took his larger hand in his and put it around her shoulder, letting him look in control for a moment or two. She could feel how tense he was, how tightly he was wound. She was too, but she knew how to control it a little more than Julian. 

“You know, I spoke to a glassblower about this a few weeks ago,” Medea said as they went up the stairs, and Julian looked confused.  
“I wanted something….personal.” She had an odd attachment to the physical, a need to surround herself with objects that proved she was really here. It wasn’t too strange, all things considered, but Julian had learned to adapt to her magpie-like tendency to hoard the small things, the things with her personality on them. She had already set up the room how she wanted it. Stripped the duvet from the bed and folded it neatly. On the bed was a drawstring bag, a dark velvet with stars embroidered in it. Medea nudged Julian. 

“Go on. Open it.” 

He kissed her cheek briefly, smiling against her, and sat on the bed, deft doctor’s hands untying the bag’s drawstring bow with ease. He slipped the object out with care and she watched his face closely; his poker face was extraordinarily bad when it came to Medea. 

He was blushing when she came to sit next to him, running her hands over his, settling her chin on his shoulder as she ran her hand down the smooth glass shaft of the object. 

“Is it okay?” She asked into his neck, a whisper against his skin. He shivered, and she smirked against his skin. Sometimes Julian surprised her; but other times, it was like playing an old song she knew by heart. The places to touch him, the places to bite, they were as natural as singing a familiar tune.

“Of course. It’s perfect. I just…” Julian trailed off and turned to look at her, watching Medea for a moment. Then he ducked to give her a kiss, strong and heated, all tongues and teeth clacking together, like awkward teenagers. Medea shifted, and grabbed Julian’s leg, putting it on the other side of her legs and pulling him into her lap. He obliged, letting her move and manipulate him however she liked. 

Medea made fast work of his shirt, untying and unfastening where it cinched together, and pulling it over his head. Deft fingers played at his trousers, kissing him with a laugh when their noses bumped together. 

Moments played out, and Medea resumed her task, moving to slip the trousers off Julian’s legs. She undid her own dress as well, untying the front and unclasping the back until it fell off her in a pile at the floor. She rolled off her tights, bare feet padding back to bed quietly. Julian tried not to stare at the rope harness she wore around her pelvis. Instead, he languidly reached to grab at her midsection, pulling her closer, fingers pressed into soft, pliant flesh. He kissed her stomach, moving upward to her breasts, mouthing at her steel kissed nipples, tonguing the piercing. Medea groaned, grabbed a fistful of Julian’s hair, and yanked his head back, staring down his pleading gaze. He bit his lip, and Medea gently cupped his cheek. He ducked his head to kiss her palm. She moved, and slid two of her fingers into his mouth unceremoniously. Julian sputtered a little around her hand, and she couldn’t help but snort. 

“Suck,” she instructed, quietly, and, without another misstep, he did. His tongue lapped at her fingertips, sucking and wetting them. He bobbed his head on her fingers, licking up and down and between the digits, until he was drooling. Medea used her thumb to wipe his chin clean and took her fingers from his wanting mouth. 

“May I have it?” She asked, hand open and waiting. It took him a moment to realize what she meant, and then scrambled to retrieve the dildo from the bed. Medea slipped it into the harness, tightening it to fit. Her hand, still wet with Julian’s saliva, rubbed his backside, pressing gently at his entrance. He bucked his hips, and she pinched his thigh. 

“So spoiled. Sit still, and let me take care of you. Just breathe.” She pressed one finger in, and her mind reeled at the cacophony of Julian’s stuttered breathing, his scrambling hands on the roughspun blanket. She added another finger, and he whined like a needy dog as she rubbed inside him, pressed against his prostate. He sobbed, back twisting and legs pressing against her sides. 

Mercifully, Medea withdrew her hand, wiping it on the glass cock between her legs. 

“Hold on.” And Medea was up, rifling through her bag, until she withdrew a small vial of lubricant. Julian gave her a shaky, very horny thumbs up, wiggling expectantly on the bed.

“Would you like something from me?” Medea asked. She spread the lubricant onto the dildo, pressing some against his entrance as well. Her hand strayed to circle the tip of Julian’s leaking, hard cock, untouched until now. He made a desperate groan and nodded into the bed. 

“Please--please fuck me,” Julian moaned, whispering small ‘please’s over and over like a holy chant, like a mantra. Medea nearly came then and there, with his wild, dampened hair and his blushing face and his beautiful hands clutching wherever they could find purchase. She pulled him by the hips closer, and lined up the head with his entrance, pushing slowly inside. 

“Oh, Medea, fuck--” Julian stammered, the feeling of the ridges and the smooth glass making him lightheaded from the sensation. Medea thrust softly, unsure of her movements. He bucked back against her, head tossing and turning. 

“Harder, please, darling plea--” Medea shushed him with a finger, and started thrusting more deliberately now, hard and shallow. When he would start moving his own body she would slow to the deliberate, deep thrusts, and he would groan in exasperation.  
“Tell me what you want, Ilya,” Medea purred, taking her time as she sunk into Julian with deliberate motions, and he cried out as she did, overstimulated tears in the corners of those big, beautiful eyes. 

“You knowwwwww,” he insisted, his own hand in his hair, the other at the base of his cock, barely touching it, as if afraid it wasn’t allowed. 

“Tell me,” Medea said, and punctuated her intent with a particularly strong thrust. Julian howled, eyes screwed shut and mouth slack. 

“I need it---I need it hard, fast…..ruin me, Medea. I want you to fuck me so hard, darling I need you to.” 

Medea stilled, and Julian nearly screamed. 

“PLEASE, Medea!” 

She grabbed his thigh, and pushed it against his chest, grinning.

“Well, since you asked nicely.” 

She began a cruel pace into Julian, the vulgar smack of skin against skin filling the small room. The tears that threatened the corner of his eyes leaked out now, and he was taut against the bed, arched and poised and fucking himself against the dildo just as hard as Medea was thrusting. 

“Touch yourself, Julian,” Medea grunted, and Julian was more than happy to comply, wrapping his hand around his cock and jacking himself off in time to the snap of Medea’s hips against his own. 

Julian crescendoed into an orgasm almost immediately after that, finally given the permission he needed. He came on his stomach, and his hand, his body sticky and wet, and Medea feels the picture burn into her memory for nights when she’s on her own. She pulls out of Julian slowly, almost hesitant, wanting his moment to last. 

When Medea has everything undone and has brought Julian a washcloth, he’s laid out spread eagle on the bed, looking thoroughly fucked out. Medea cleaned Julian carefully, knowing his sensitive spots better than her own. 

After a moment of quiet, comfortable silence, Julian speaks. 

“You didn’t get to…” 

Medea smiles wickedly, and presses a kiss to his nose. 

“We haven’t even begun the night, dear Ilya.”


End file.
